


i would pay 500 yen (and i would pay 500 more)

by Erisabesu (ErisabesuFic)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Boys Kissing, Canon Compliant, Charity Booth, Festivals, Fluff, Gay yearning, Gift Fic, Humor, Kissing Booths, M/M, Pro volleyball players, Romance, Shenanigans, Suna is a Gay Disaster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:27:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28280868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErisabesuFic/pseuds/Erisabesu
Summary: “... Komori just…doesit for him.  In every way imaginable.  And Suna has imaginedquitea lot.”
Relationships: Komori Motoya/Suna Rintarou
Comments: 27
Kudos: 98





	i would pay 500 yen (and i would pay 500 more)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spills](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spills/gifts).



### i would pay 500 yen (and i would pay 500 more)

—

The EJP Raijin’s coach calls a surprise huddle at the end of Wednesday’s practice.

As the players all amble to the side of the court, Suna picks out Komori’s position in the group and forgoes the immediate retrieval of his cell phone, so he can try to sit near him. Not directly next to him, mind you, because Suna’s crushing so bad he could probably catch something on fire with his horny thoughts. He really can’t trust himself not to give into the urge to lean over and sniff Komori’s neck sweat or drool onto his thighs or lick the backs of his knees or something else equally as mortifying in front of an audience of their peers, because Komori just… _does_ it for him. In every way imaginable. And Suna has imagined _quite_ a lot.

Plus, he’s so _nice._ And fun, and smart, and gallant, and funny, and reliable, and so incredible on the court, just—how is it fair for someone to be so disgustingly fuckable _and_ likeable in one perfect package? 

It’s _not._

So Suna remains nonchalant and sits down in Komori’s blind spot with two other people between them. A safe enough distance to observe without getting caught and still be inside the circle of Komori’s orbit enough to produce a steady stream of gay yearning to sustain his ultimately fatal addiction, as the rest of the team gathers in a sprawl on the floor, drinking from their water bottles and toweling off the sweat from the day’s practice.

“I’ve got good news… and bad news,” the coach says. 

Suna Rintarou, lover of chaos, perks up at this—he’s always glad for the usual routine to get stirred up by an unexpected announcement, ready on standby with his mobile to record everyone’s pain and humiliation. The rest of the team makes noncommittal noises until the coach holds up his hands to quiet them.

“Just got word that we successfully secured a booth at the university to promote the start of the season during this Saturday’s festival.”

“Is that the good news or the bad news?” Someone asks, and everyone laughs.

“Wait, we have to give up our Saturday?” Someone else mutters, and everyone groans.

“But what if we had plans already?” Another player asks, and several more chime in with similar concerns.

“Everyone be ready to report to the university at 9:00am,” the coach pitches his voice over the team’s rumblings. “You all know the drill. This event is our chance to solidify our fanbase and increase ticket sales, so every one of you will attend in your game uniforms and work the booth. You’ll get a schedule for where you’ll be stationed, and when to walk around and promote the team, hype things up for our next game.”

The group more or less grumbles in agreement, though the reactions are mixed. For his part, while he’d prefer to have nothing on the agenda for his days off, Suna is 100% a-ok with doing just about anything on a Saturday if it means Komori will be there too. They both joined the team this season, and they’re not really close enough to hang out yet, so he’ll jump at any chance to talk with him. Or at least linger in the near vicinity where he can gaze at Komori’s waist to shoulder ratio and imagine some things.

Suna steals a glance at Komori and finds him grinning and chatting with his neighbor, appearing totally unperturbed by the announcement that they’ll all be working the festival that Saturday. 

Suna’s chest squeezes, hoping this confirms that Komori doesn’t already have some hot date plans, and thus isn’t bothered by giving up a day off. 

Then Suna frowns. Fuck. If Komori _does_ have a hot date, he’ll probably just reschedule ‘cause he’s not the type to leave someone hanging. Responsible types like him usually always have someone, so it’s far too early to get his hopes up that he really might be single.

Someone clears their throat. “Coach, tell us some good news, _please.”_

This sets off another round of muttering, and the coach looks over the group with a wry smile. 

“The university is also raising funds to support a charity, and in order to secure our booth, we have to designate someone to help out at the charity table for a two hour shift.”

“The heck does that mean?” Someone asks, and the muttering starts up again.

“Like selling raffle tickets?”

“Or merch?”

The coach shuffles his feet, putting a hand in his pocket. “Their charity fundraiser is actually, uh, a kissing booth. So I’ll need a volunteer.”

The team erupts in surprise gasps, which turn quickly into laughter, some of it embarrassed, some amused, and some a little too eager. Suna cocks a brow, listening to the overlapping reactions of his teammates with amusement.

“Dude, so people are gonna pay to kiss us?”

“How much?”

 _“That’s_ your first thought?”

The coach answers, “500 yen.”

“To kiss some chicks? Awesome!”

“Sweet, sign me up!”

“Heck yeah, pretty ladies!”

“Pretty _college_ girls~”

“What the fuck dude, you’re married!”

“Work is work, can’t help it.” This is followed by exaggerated smooching noises, and raucous laughter.

“Wait-wait—but can _anyone_ just pay for it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, old grannies and stuff?”

“Oh my god, hold up.”

“No way, grannies? _Ugh_.”

“What’s wrong with grannies? Seems harmless.”

“Then you do it!”

“Me? No thanks!”

“Yeah, I’ll kiss the pretty girls, but that’s it.”

“You’ll just pop a boner, dude, no one’s gonna let your desperate ass volunteer anyways.”

“Hey!”

“Good point, can’t be scaring people off with a stiffy.”

“Too much for virgins like you to handle!”

“Fuck off, dude!”

“Wait, how else is a virgin gonna get any?”

“That’s so wrong…”

“Who’s getting a stiffy with some grannies anyways?”

“Aw gross, you said it!”

“Bahaha!”

Suna rolls his eyes at the surge of laughter around him. He looks over at Komori again, and for a second their eyes meet. Komori glances around at their teammates and then rolls his eyes, grinning, and Suna feels his whole body go syrupy warm. He gives Komori a tiny smirk, shaking his head at the antics all around them.

“Wait, oh my god—guys, this is serious!”

“What?”

“It might not just be grannies!”

“Your point?”

“Like, what if a dude comes over?”

“A _dude?!”_

“Yeah! Like, do we have to kiss dudes?”

“Oh fuck!”

“Um……”

“Coach!” Several people address the coach, who sighs.

“It’s for charity, guys, so yeah, anyone who pays the fee gets a kiss. Obviously. That’s what a kissing booth _is_.” 

“So if a guy pays the fee we have to kiss them? For real?”

The coach rolls his eyes. “First of all, this isn’t a _make-out_ booth, it’s just giving a little peck, so don’t get your panties in a wad.”

The group snickers, and the coach then cocks his head. “And second, you all sure must be confident about your looks if you think a bunch of _guys_ are going to line up to kiss one of you lunkheads.”

The team erupts in more laughter at this, elbowing each other in the ribs.

“You did say we’d have to wear our uniforms!” Someone chimes in. “Who doesn't like athletes in uniforms?”

“Like that makes any difference for _you_ ,” someone else teases.

“Hey! Look who’s talking! I’m way hotter than you.”

The coach chuckles. “Ok, hot stuff, that mean you’re volunteering?”

“Nuh-uh!”

“Yeah, count me out too, coach.”

“Me too—I kiss my own granny but nobody else’s!”

“Dude, gross—”

“—Shut up, you know what I mean!”

More laughter ripples through the group, and Suna shakes his head, arms wrapped loosely around his bent knees.

The coach raises a hand to quiet them. “Now look, I know it’s a tough job.” 

Someone makes another smooching noise, sending trickles of laughter through the team. 

The coach actually chuckles but then recovers and clears his throat, tapping his clipboard. “But I’m still going to need one of you to volunteer. Someone who’s not going to get too excited over the ladies, or insult any of the grannies, or get too weirded out if a, uhhh, gentleman happens to participate. You’re all professionals representing this team, and remember, this is for charity after all. Now who’s going to have the guts to step up?”

Washio, seated next to Suna, clears his throat. “When you put it like that, Coach, the only one of us it could be is Suna.”

The rest of the team busts up laughing, and Suna turns his head to blink at Washio, who is smirking at him with quite a bit of mischief. The players near Suna all start elbowing him and ruffling his hair, and Suna can only endure it behind his usual blank expression. It’s too much effort to protest.

“Nice one, Washio!”

“Yeah, you’re so right!”

“Tough break, Suna!” Someone jeers.

“Don’t all go ganging up on him, he didn’t agree yet—”

“But he’s perfect!”

Suna’s eyes narrow a bit at this as he looks around at his teammates. 

“See? He’s totally unfazed!”

“Yeah, you’re right!”

“He might not even notice who he’s kissing!”

“Or _care!"_

“Bahaha, then let ‘im have all the grannies and dudes!”

“Suna you’re too laid back, man, at least have some reaction!” The guy on his right teases. 

“Wait, you have kissed before, right?” 

“Yeah, we can’t have a half-assed kisser representing the team!”

“You’re not gonna pop a boner, are you?”

Suna rolls his eyes, sitting back on his hands and glancing around his teammates. These assholes always underestimate him. 

He tilts his chin up, giving a small shrug of his shoulders. “For 500 yen—you can find out.”

Everyone’s jaw drops—then the group erupts in raucous, chaotic jeering. 

“You dirty dog!”

“Damn, Suna!”

“Coach, he’s perfect, you gotta admit!”

“Your sacrifice is appreciated!”

“RIP to your lips!”

Suna looks up to see the coach watching his reaction, brows raised, probably waiting for a confirmation after the unexpected nomination. 

Suna sighs, sending some fierce side eye Washio’s way as he sits back up. The kissing booth just sounds like a drag. But he’s even less excited about walking around the festival to try to hype the team—that’s _not_ his strongest suit, obviously. And besides, it’s much more tiring than having to peck some strangers, so Suna gives the coach a shrug in assent, hoping that the charity booth won’t be that popular in the grand scheme of the festival.

The coach shifts his weight, holding his gaze for another moment while the team is carrying on, and then shrugs back at Suna and starts writing on his clipboard.

“Okay, Suna is our volunteer—”

“—Coach, I’ll do it.” Komori interrupts, his arm in the air.

It takes a beat for the group of them to realize he spoke up, and then everyone is laughing and whistling, except for Suna, who’s staring at Komori, mouth slightly open in horror. 

_What the fuck?_ His chest is suddenly painfully constricted.

“Alright, alright, Motoya, calm it down!” Says the teammate sitting between them.

“Yeah, we already got our volunteer!” Another guy pipes up.

“Why speak up now, huh?”

Komori shrugs one shoulder, grinning. “I really don’t mind representing the team—Suna shouldn’t have to do it just ‘cause you all are too chicken.”

“Ooooo, _ouch!”_

“He just burned y’all!”

“Well you didn’t volunteer either!”

“Just saying!”

The ribbing continues, and Suna can’t hear any of it for the blood beating in his ears like taiko drums. The very idea of strangers getting to kiss Komori, lining up around the campus and taking turns, one after the other, girls or grannies or dudes or grandpas, like Komori’s kisses could be so—so _cheap,_ when Suna would personally die just for the honor—!

It’s just so wrong—Suna has to keep Komori away from this whole ridiculous thing no matter what.

Suna clears his throat. “I agreed already, so. I got this.”

Komori raises an eyebrow at him, while the rest of the team goes, _“Oooooo…”_

“Suna said to step off, Motoya!”

“Dayum, Suna!”

Komori shrugs, glancing back to the coach. “Just doesn’t seem like his thing, and it’s no big deal to me. So I’m volunteering.”

Suna’s brows furrow. “And I said I got this.”

Their gazes lock, while the guys around them start up their jeering again.

“Just giving you a way out, man,” Komori says. He’s smiling, but Suna only hears a challenge, and his hackles rise.

“You saying I can’t handle it?” Suna retorts.

“Yo, Suna’s gettin’ serious!” Someone says, and the team cracks up laughing.

Washio props his elbow on Suna’s shoulder, grinning. “Better watch out when Suna sets his mind to something!”

The guy next to Komori elbows him. “I dunno, kinda want to see how Komori does at the booth!” 

“The hell?”

“You want to watch him kiss grannies?”

“No, you assholes,” the guy waves his hands, laughing, “I meant ‘cause he’s a libero!”

“You mean ‘cause he receives?” Shouts someone in the back.

“Now hold up!”

The guys start up the hooting again, and Komori rolls his eyes, grinning.

“Hey that’s true, Suna just blocks!”

“Oh shit, haha!”

“Pay 500 yen—get blocked!”

“Oh my god!”

“Fuck if that ain’t true!”

“Yeah coach, better take Komori instead!”

“Can’t raise any funds if all the kisses get blocked!”

“People gotta actually receive something for their coin!”

Suna sighs while the rest of the guys have their gigglefit. Komori’s laughing too, but he’s the only one who doesn’t seem to be laughing at Suna’s expense, just having a good time. This makes Suna both crazy with fondness and irritated that Komori might just end up at that kissing booth instead.

Suna rolls his shoulders, and waits for the din to die down, then makes his counterattack. “I don’t just block—I _score_.” 

Komori’s eyebrows shoot up, mouth falling open in a shocked smile. Suna squirms inside with how cute it is, and ignores the new chorus of “OooooOOOOooooooo!” that flows over the team from one end to the other.

“Fuck, Suna!”

“Nice one!”

“Bahaha, ‘cause liberos can’t score!”

“Way to score a comeback, Suna!”

“Forget kissing booth, where’s the fuck booth?”

“Fuck for charity!”

“For 500 yen though?”

The team really loses it then, even the coach and assistant coach are sniggering behind their clipboards. Suna passively endures all the mussing of his hair and the thumping on his back while they rib him.

“Damn, Suna said he’s putting out!”

“Taking it for the team!”

“Or giving it up for the team?!”

“Alright, alright,” the coach steps in so the laughter subsides. “Jokes aside, which of you is volunteering for the charity booth?”

“I am,” Suna and Komori say in unison, hands lifted. They look at each other.

Everyone cackles.

“First there’s no volunteers, now there’s two!” Someone comments.

“For real.”

“What’s that mean then?”

“Battle it out?”

“Haha yeah!”

“What, like arm wrestle?”

“Nuh-uh! Gotta be a kissing battle!”

“Best kisser wins!”

“Wait, who’s the judge?”

“Oh shit.”

“Whoever pops a boner loses, duh!”

“That’s nasty!”

“What about half chub?”

“You all are some thirsty bitches—”

“Like you’re all not picturing it!”

More whooping erupts through the team. Suna’s still looking at Komori head on, and his heart judders with turbulence to see him laugh and start to flush across the bridge of his nose. Suna’s not quite sure he’s managing to keep his face impassive as the heat in his ribcage starts to flow upward into his cheeks.

“Two dudes in a kissing battle? What’s wrong with you?”

“That’s what makes it funny, duh.”

“Be funnier if they were ugly!”

“You sayin’ they're sexy?”

“Nah, I’m just sayin’ they ain’t ugly!”

“A dude’s a dude, bro.”

“Haha, truth.”

“Y’all might be protesting a little too much, if you know what I mean…”

“Says the one trying to hype up a kissing match!”

“That’s right! Hurry up and get on with it!”

“Suna vs. Komori!”

“Battle of the season!”

“You mean battle of the seasoning—what did you both have for lunch earlier?”

The riot of laughter is contagious, and Suna chuckles, face still a furnace while watching Komori’s cute grin. 

“My money’s on Komori!”

At this, Komori’s grin becomes a smirk. Suna wants to eat it off his face, preferably without an audience, not caring one bit what he had for lunch.

“No way, my money’s on Suna.”

“It’s always the quiet ones that surprise you!”

“Guys, Komori’s totally got this—who doesn’t like Motoya?” 

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Ain’t a person that’s met Motoya and not become his friend for life!”

“You saying no one likes Suna?”

“Ouch! Yikes…”

“Wait have you even _looked_ at Suna? He may seem boring, but there’s an appeal.”

“Guy’s got some _serious_ mojo!”

This time it’s Suna’s turn to smirk, tilting his head back without breaking eye contact with Komori. Komori glances down at his mouth—just for a fraction of a second—and Suna’s heartbeat surges so desperately he can feel it pumping all the way down his wrists. Fuck. He’s never looked Komori in the eye this long before, and it’s making every nerve ending vibrate. _Fuck!_ He hopes Komori can’t tell, because Suna’s pretty sure that despite his deadpan face, it has to be obvious just how much he wants to be his official boyfriend, or at least, teammate with benefits, or at the very very least, his line message buddy because Suna Rintarou is a simp who is not too proud to take any available crumb.

“Wait is this a timed battle?”

“Yeah who’s got a stopwatch?”

“You all are crazy…”

“How else’re we gonna decide who wins?”

“What’s the time limit then?”

“Seven minutes in heaven!” This is met with a round of encouraging cheers.

“Get ‘em in the locker room!”

“No, the storage closet!”

“Aw shit! It’s about to go down!”

“Dude, nobody is _going down!”_

“Well, one of them has to!”

“Yeah, it’s a battle!”

“Not _that_ kind of battle!”

“Oh shi—!” 

“So who’s going down first!”

“My money’s on—” 

Then the coach steps in, “—How ‘bout all of you get your minds out of the gutter before I sign the whole team up for kissing booth duty, okay?”

The team is laughing and making noise, but Suna can’t care enough to make out what anyone else is doing while Komori is looking at him like—like _that_. Like he’s sizing him up, reevaluating and—dare he hope?—like he’s rather pleased with what he sees.

“Coach,” Komori says, breaking eye contact, and once again raising his hand. “Why not designate us both?”

 _That_ catches everyone’s attention. 

“Both of you?” the coach repeats.

“Yeah,” Komori nods. “Is there any rule that says you can’t send two volunteers?”

The coach and assistant coach exchange a glance, and then shrug. “I guess not. Probably more the merrier.”

Suna frowns, but Komori turns back to him with a grin. “Then, if Suna still wants to volunteer—?”

Suna nods, not sure where this is going exactly.

Komori nods back, then relaxes, sitting back on his hands. “With two of us we can keep the line from getting too long, and if there isn’t a line, then the people who paid the fee can have their choice between us. It’s just better customer service this way, right? And makes the team look good.”

“Look at you being smart!” Someone says, and everyone joins in with laughs.

Suna looks down at his hands, annoyed that Komori is still set on participating at the kissing booth no matter what. Having him at the booth is bad enough. But the last thing he wants is to sit at the table _with him_ and have to watch him kiss all those randos when there’s nothing he can do about it. 

Fuck! 

“Oh, I know what’s going on here,” says the wing spiker on the other side of Washio. Everyone turns to him as he says, “You just want to take the kissing battle to the festival!”

The team laughs loudly at this, and Suna turns back to Komori, tilting his head in question.

“Yeah, man! Let the crowds decide who wins!”

“Guy with the most kisses at the end of the day wins!”

Komori meets Suna’s gaze and smirks, wrapping arms around his bent knees and shrugging.

“Dang, that’s harsh!” Someone complains.

“Seems fair to me?”

“Yeah, let the customers decide! What’s wrong with that?”

“Exactly—tough choice!”

“Say what?”

“Put them two together, and it’s not much of a choice!”

“You mean everyone’s going to pick—” A chorus of people naming Suna get mixed together with those naming Komori, into an unintelligible cacophony.

“I say Suna’s gonna win—” 

“—you counting out Komori?”

“What if nobody wants to kiss either of them?”

“They’d be lying!”

This sets everyone off laughing again for a time.

“But hold up, hold up—how’s that supposed to determine the best kisser? That’s just numbers!”

“Oh shit you’re right!”

“Yeah man, we’re talking about qual-i-ty!”

“You got a plan for that, Motoya?”

“Yeah, what’s your strategy?”

Everyone looks at Komori expectantly, who just smiles, and then winks at Suna. “For 500 yen each, you can decide for yourself!”

And with this nicely timed side-splitter, the entire gym is thrown into chaos, players rolling around on the floor clutching their stomachs, others in tears, Suna and Komori alike getting thumped on the back and high-fiving until their palms sting just like blocking or receiving in a match. 

The coach marks both their names down for volunteer duty, and the meeting dissolves somewhere between the third and fourth infectious gigglefit, players limping and blissed out from all the joking around stumbling into the locker room to shower and change.

When Suna steps out of the shower, Komori has already left. So Suna goes home, contemplating how to make sure that every goddamn person that comes to the kissing booth on Saturday chooses _him_ and leaves Komori unsullied.

— 

The night before the festival, Suna makes the mistake of asking Osamu for advice on just how to achieve this goal. 

After giving the tl;dr version of the situation, Suna is left to sprawl on his couch and spiral further into a depression with the phone propped on a couch pillow by his ear, listening to Osamu lose his shit, laughing maniacally and being otherwise completely insensitive about Suna’s predicament for over twenty-five minutes. 

It’s unhelpful. Suna rolls his eyes, telling Alexa to change the tv channel for him, so he can get back to watching an early season of _RuPaul’s Drag_ Race until Osamu begins winding down. Finally. 

“Shit, Sunarin…” Osamu trails off again, still snickering and a bit out of breath from laughing so hard for so long. “Thanks for the ab workout, man, that was intense.”

“Why the fuck do I even still talk to you?” Suna huffs. 

“Because yer an idiot havin’ a gay breakdown, and I’m yer best friend who gets to watch from primo box seats.”

“You know Tsumu’s actually my best friend,” Suna counters. 

Osamu’s incensed string of expletives at high volume forces Suna to lean away from his phone for a moment, and his mouth curls upward in a half smile, feeling a bit vindicated.

When Osamu winds down from _this_ fit, he says, “Yer a dick, and I will hang up on ya.”

Suna sighs. “Don’t hang up. I need some serious fuckboy mojo, and you’re the only fuckboy I know.”

Osamu barks an amused laugh. “Damn well better be!”

“Then help me, Samu.” Suna pulls his knees up to his chest. “What’s it gonna take to get every customer to pick me and not him when he’s so personable and magnetic and hot and _built_ , and like, a complete angel that literally every person on the planet wants to be around even if it’s just for half a minute? _How_ do I compete with that? Tell me, Samu, _how?”_

Osamu takes a deep breath, and Suna can hear him sitting down on the armchair in his flat, recognizing the familiar creak of the leather.

“Sunarin, I think ya know what to do.”

“I don’t.”

“Yes, ya do.”

“I don’t want anyone else to kiss him, and if they do, I _definitely_ don’t want to watch.”

“Ya already know the one way to be certain that doesn't happen, dontcha.”

“Fuck you.”

Osamu sighs, but Suna hears the fond exasperation underneath. “Want me to get Kiyoomi? Ya can talk with him if ya want.”

“Fuck no.” Suna scrunches up his face.

Osamu laughs. “Okay. Look, it’s all gonna turn out ok. Call me tomorrow, tell me how it went, yeah?”

“When I die of shame, humiliation, and the pain of unrequited love tomorrow because my best friend didn’t help me become an irresistible fuckboy overnight, make sure Kita-san’s the one to write my obituary. I want my life to sound nice and respectable for a change.”

Osamu chuckles. “You got it. Now go get yer man, Sunarin.”

— 

Saturday’s festival is like any other university festival: loud, crowded, and draining. 

The morning goes by quickly—Suna stays in the back of the EJP Raijin’s covered booth surfing random feeds on his phone, stopping only to hand his teammates at the front lines more flyers and programs when they run out, and trying not to make himself sick with nerves. Or mints. He’s had about half a bag, and that might have been a mistake after skipping breakfast.

He hasn’t seen Komori since the team gathered at 9:00am, when Komori was assigned to walk around campus with a couple of other guys to engage the crowds and promote the team, “hype” things up for their Tuesday night game.

Their shift at the kissing booth starts at 11:00am, with a lunch break at 1:00pm. Time goes by so fast Suna is startled when the assistant coach taps him on the shoulder and points to his watch—ten minutes left to go pick up Komori and get over to the kissing booth.

“Don’t want to be late,” the assistant coach says, clapping his shoulder and grinning.

This statement draws the attention of Suna’s teammates, of course, who start whistling and chanting, pumping their fists like barbarians.

“Alright, Suna!”

“Yeah, boy!”

“Go do us proud!”

Suna mock-kisses his fingertips, and then turns and smacks his ass. While they all bust up laughing, he ducks out the back of the team’s booth and through the row of tents, out into the tree-lined corridor that leads up to the main quad.

He’s supposed to meet up with Komori at the fountain, but he stops off to the side for a moment, to take a deep breath. 

Welp.

This is it.

Fuck.

As Suna approaches the huge fountain in the center of the main quad, he sees Komori coming around from the other side. Komori waves, smiling, an angelic vision with the sun glinting off his perfect teeth and turning his hair into an even more gorgeous bronze, the water of the fountain’s spray casting a halo of rainbows behind him. He’s the gay Jesus of Suna’s dreams, and his steps falter momentarily, but he corrects and makes his way over to his teammate without actually falling onto his face.

“Hey,” Komori says.

“‘Sup.” Suna nods.

“Ready?”

Suna shrugs, and they start walking around the fountain towards the north quad where the charity booth is located. Suna’s palms start sweating, big time—this is his only chance to try and stop the disaster that awaits them at the kissing booth, it’s gotta be _now._

He turns to Komori, just as Komori grabs hold of his arm.

“Suna, hang on,” Komori says as they come to a stop. Suna looks at him wide-eyed, heart wheezing in anticipation.

Komori glances around them, and then pulls Suna over towards the line of trees that frame one edge of the quad. “Over here.”

Once they are more or less away from the rest of the festival crowds, and hidden enough for a semblance of privacy, Komori lets go of his arm and runs a hand through his hair. “Look, I just want to make sure—you’re not mad at me, are you?” 

“Huh?” Suna’s brows furrow. “No, why?”

“Well, you’ve seemed pissed at me since I volunteered,” Komori admits, looking sheepish. “Like I was butting in where I wasn’t wanted?”

Suna frowns, then shakes his head. “Nah. I’m not pissed. I just don’t think you need to be bothered with this.”

Komori cocks his head. “Then you know how I feel—I don’t think you should be bothered with this either. I didn’t like how you were nominated like that, like you didn’t matter.” Komori taps his knuckles on Suna’s sternum. “Just because you’ve got a poker face, doesn’t mean you have no opinions or feelings.”

Suna shrugs a shoulder, but his heart is skipping around in every direction like a kid on a sugar high, and it’s distracting.

“Anyways, thought it would be better to share the burden,” Komori chuckles, a smirk playing on his lips.

Suna licks his lips in a subconscious response, then shakes himself and clears his throat. “It’s... nice of you, but I can handle this. Really.”

“I believe you,” Komori chuckles again. “But isn’t it more fun to do it together? Keep each other company?”

Suna shakes his head. _“Fuck_ no.”

Komori’s brows shoot up, and his expression crumples around the edges—Suna tsks, and then grabs Komori by the arm, worried he might leave before he can get any more words out. 

“I mean— _shit."_ Suna sighs, then forces his eyes to meet Komori’s. “I like you. You’re not a bad dude.”

“But—?” Komori presses.

Suna squeezes Komori’s arm, then let’s go. “It’s not—your company is fine, ok? I just. Really don’t want to have to watch you kiss a bunch of other people.”

Komori blinks. Then the slant of his lips softens, and Suna has to glance away for a second. He covers by reaching into his pocket for a 500 yen coin, which he then holds out to Komori.

“If you’re gonna be that serious about working the booth, and if kissing guys isn’t, like, a hard pass, then I’m gonna be your first customer. And if I can’t convince you that you’re not needed, then—” Suna shrugs, and tucks the coin into Komori’s hand. “Whatever.”

Before he can talk himself out of it, Suna places hands on Komori’s cheeks and tilts his head up, then musters all his courage to slide their mouths together. He hears Komori’s surprised inhale and holds still, in case he’s going to get shoved away or something. But in the next moment Komori presses closer and Suna angles in response and then his lips part and so do Komori’s, and then they both take a breath before Suna glides the tip of his tongue across Komori’s lip only for Komori to open up for him, coaxing him further, so Suna licks into his mouth past Komori’s front teeth, and Komori sucks hungrily on his tongue and _moans—_

Next thing Suna knows, without breaking the kiss Komori grabs the front of Suna’s uniform and shoves his back into the hard trunk of a tree, knee pressed into Suna’s thigh. Suna digs fingertips through Komori’s hair as the kissing intensifies, jaws working and tongues plunging deeper until he’s dizzy, pulse erratic and surging through his whole body.

Komori’s body settles tight against him, arching to try and match Suna's height, and Suna’s brain kind of shorts out, unable to process anything beyond _fuck yes_ and _this is so hot_ and _hello Suna Jr.,_ and then, embarrassingly, _I want to fucking marry you._

Time is meaningless when Komori’s leg is wedged between his, while they exchange kisses so steamy and titillating he’s pretty sure he’s leaving scorch marks on the tree at his back. Komori drags teeth over Suna’s tongue, sending chills down his shoulders and back, and then plunges his tongue into Suna’s mouth.

Fuuuuuck, it’s _so good._ Suna kisses back with all the passion he's been concealing for months. Komori’s hands are firm on his shoulders, but Suna feels how they tremble and he moves his hands down Komori’s neck, tracing his collarbones before sliding down his sides to lock his big hands around Komori’s waist. Suna pulls him in even tighter, driving his tongue even further into Komori’s hot mouth, and digging his fingernails into the sweaty small of his back. Fuck, they fit together so well. If they were indoors, he could just pick Komori up and pound him against the nearest wall. Komori groans and ruts his hips once, twice, and again—Suna shivers at the feel of Komori’s hardness rubbing right next to his bulge, and well— 

They’re going to have to call the fire department because this is the hottest “seven minutes in heaven” session of Suna’s life, so sizzling hot he can smell smoke as his skin ignites like tinder.

Komori ruts twice more against him, and then plants his hands on either side of Suna’s head, palms on the tree trunk so he can push some space between them, ease things back a notch. 

Suna’s balls protest the sudden lack of friction. But Suna takes solace from the way Komori vibrates in his arms while Suna tenderly winds down their kisses into a series of gentle, lingering nibbles, letting them both calm down a bit. It’s also not bad for his ego to take in how flushed and out of breath Komori is when their mouths finally part and their eyes meet.

“Wooow,” Komori exhales, breathy and still a bit dazed. “Now I _really_ don’t want you at the kissing booth, if you can kiss like that.”

Suna frowns and straightens up, though his knees are a little wobbly. He flushes deeper, and Komori chuckles. 

“That’s my line,” Suna retorts. “I’ve already said I don’t want to see you kissing a bunch of other people.”

Komori laughs. “Well okay, glad we’re in agreement. But one of us is going to have to do it—”

“—That’s why I said I would—”

“—So how about this,” Komori leans in and gives Suna a soft kiss. “I’ll bow out this time. Then for every customer that pays to kiss you, _I_ get to kiss you later, to cancel it out.”

Suna’s breath hitches with the promise of those words, and his insides start liquefying with all his little pent up longings and gay desires. “Um, sure. Yeah. Sounds good, or whatever.”

Komori laughs and traces Suna’s mouth with his thumb, wiping away the sheen of saliva, and smirking. “Damn. That was my first kissing battle, and I think I lost.”

Suna smirks, tilting his chin up. “Loser.”

Komori laughs, and Suna feels a zing of joy pierce through his overexerted heart. Komori helps Suna step away from the tree and brushes off some dirt and leaves from the back of Suna’s uniform. Suna combs his fingers through Komori’s hair, getting it more or less back the way it was before suffering the effects of his horny grip.

By this time Suna Jr. has subsided enough to return to the public walkways, and Komori falls into step with him as they head for the kissing booth, neither caring at all that they’re about three minutes late for their shift.

— 

When Suna and Komori arrive at the charity booth, they find a harried festival worker holding a clipboard and fretting, and two towering basketball players in uniform standing nearby, arms crossed and looking bored. Seated inside the kissing booth is a young woman with a sparkling tiara on a giant hairdo that Suna’s pretty sure is a wig, and a sash that is illegible from their vantage point.

“Sorry, we’re late!” Komori calls out as they approach. “We, uh, got lost?”

Suna snorts at this, drawing frowns from everyone else present but Komori, who kicks him in the ankle with surprising force. Suna just manages to suppress several expletives, hopping on one foot.

 _“Finally!”_ Mutters the festival worker, who turns to the basketball players. “You’re free to go now!” he says, waving at them.

The other athletes give Suna and Komori nods, and they nod back.

“Now!” The festival worker beckons to them, ushering them into the small booth past the roped area for the line of customers, and towards the two chairs beside the seated woman. 

“This is our beauty pageant queen of the university’s third year class, Eiko-san,” he explains, gesturing to the woman who beams up at them. “While she collects the donation tickets and attends to the customers, you two will make sure none of them misbehave or get out of hand. Got it?”

Suna’s jaw drops. _What the hell?_

“You mean like bodyguards?” Komori asks.

“Very similar!” the man explains. He hands them each a paper from his clipboard. “These are the rules. Just make sure nothing awkward happens, okay? There shouldn’t be any issues, but you’re here just in case. If anything unusual comes up, my number’s on that form. Any questions?”

Suna shifts his weight, hands in his pockets. “So we don’t have to kiss anyone?”

The man laughs in their faces. “Good god, no. Why on earth would you think that?”

Suna and Komori exchange a glance, and then shrug. 

“I think we’re good then,” Komori says, smiling. 

“Great! Have fun, and I’ll check back sometime in the next hour.”

“Thanks!” Komori waves.

Suna takes a deep breath, and lets it out, relieved that neither of them will have to kiss any customers during their stint as volunteers. 

What a fucking production.

They make introductions with Eiko-san, and take up positions on either side of her. Suna can’t help wondering what this means for the “later” Komori promised earlier.

But he needn’t have worried so much—when they have a free moment, Komori leans over and whispers, “I’m still going to kiss the dickens out of you later. Prepare yourself for a rematch.”

Suna grips the edge of his folding chair, face nonchalant despite the volcano inside him erupting with boiling hot magma that surges over all his organs and bones until his soul threatens to ascend right then and there.

“Sure, okay,” he replies. “Whatever.”

  
  


Fin. ♥

**Author's Note:**

> I am so glad you requested thest two, Xin! I had a blast with this, haha, especially Suna being a gay disaster. ♥ I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Thank you all for reading! Please feel free to comment, leave kudos, and [share this tweet](https://twitter.com/erisabesu3/status/1342000781025816576) if you liked the read!


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